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Blackmore, R. D. (Richard Doddridge), 1825-1900

"Springhaven : a Tale of the Great War"


In a few minutes, as the evening dusk began to deepen round her, the
mysterious little craft disappeared in a hollow of the uplands on the
other side of the water, where a narrow creek or inlet--such as
is called a "pill" in some parts of England--formed a sheltered
landing-place, overhung with clustering trees. Then Scudamore rose, and
filled another pipe, to meditate upon this strange affair. "I am
justly forbidden," he thought, as it grew dark, "to visit the camp, or
endeavour to learn anything done by the army of invasion. And I have
pledged myself to that effect. But this is a different case altogether.
When Englishmen come here as traitors to their country, and in a place
well within my range, my duty is to learn the meaning of it; and if
I find treachery of importance working, then I must consider about my
parole, and probably withdraw it. That would be a terrible blow to me,
because I should certainly be sent far inland, and kept in a French
prison perhaps for years, with little chance of hearing from my friends
again. And then she would give me up as lost, that faithful darling,
who has put aside all her bright prospects for my sake. How I wish I had
never seen that boat! and I thought it was coming to bring me such good
news! I am bound to give them one day's grace, for they might not
know where to find me at once, and to-night I could not get near them,
without overstaying my time to be in-doors.


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